Fidget
by DOTBF
Summary: In which Scout's incessant wiggling is keeping Sniper from getting to sleep. Fluff ensues. T for a bit of language. Sniper/Scout. Drabble. COMPLETE


It was stuffy. Unreasonably so. For someone who prided themselves on their love of the outdoors as much as Sniper did, he really did an amazing job of keeping every last bit of it out of his van. Honestly, was it so much to ask that they crack a window? Turn a fan on? Something? _Anything_?

As if it weren't already difficult enough for Scout to get to sleep at night, suffocating and endlessly breathing the same stale air certainly didn't help matters. He turned over violently, spitefully, and drew the sheet tighter around his thin frame, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't working. Everything about the sleeping arrangement just felt wrong this night. Nothing was really different, nothing he could really put is finger on to name. Just that he felt fidgety and uncomfortable and more than anything else, just not sleepy.

In a last ditch effort to find a corner of the cramped little bed that he might be able to catch some sleep in, Scout heaved himself up onto hands and knees and inverted his position; his feet up by the pillows. The novelty of laying in such a way was nice enough, but as soon as he settled himself and his body warmed the bed up again it became just as unpleasant as it had been before. Perhaps even more so, now that he thought about it, since he had to deal with Sniper's gangly legs stretched out all over the damn place.

There was just no winning, was there?

Scout resigned himself to staring up at the ceiling moodily, wriggling around in his little bubble of space with as much vigor as he could without outright waking his bedmate. And it was definitely an accident when the heel of the runner's foot connected with Sniper's hip.

The latter grunted at the dull pain and blearily cracked his eyes to glance at Scout before grumbling incoherently and turning over so if the runner decided to kick anything else it would at least be sturdier, and less boney than his hips. The allure of sleep was more inviting than quarreling with the young man, at any rate, and Scout was spared the lecture.

So he kept at it. He could usually find peace in his constantly wiggling, and even if the van was stuffy, and hot, and cramped, and small, and even if Sniper was snoring lightly, and even if the man's legs took up a stupid amount of space, Scout was sure he'd eventually find a comfy spot if he just kept moving. Eventually he'd have to settle into it, right?

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Sniper's hand was suddenly gripping his ankle like a vice. The man groggily glared over his shoulder at the young runner, who kept his best poker face,

"Ah swear't God, mongrel, if yeh' don't sit still ahm' kickin' yeh' outta' here." he released the young man's foot and wrapped himself up in the sheets, grumbling, "Yeh've gotta squirm? Do it on the gaddam' floor. Lemme' sleep in peace..."

"Scuse' _me_, your highness," Scout scoffed, tugging on the sheets so he might have some too and eliciting a low growl from the hunter. If he said he gave a shit, he'd have been lying, "Maybe if it weren't so fuckin' _hot_ in here," he grumbled, fidgeting within a small enough space so as not to actually bump into Sniper, but with enough gusto that the mattress still shook lightly.

"Yeh've got yer' own bed," Sniper grumbled into the pillow.

"You say bed, I say rock slab. Ain't sleeping on that piece've shit..."

"Then _sit the feck' still_," the man hissed, bending his knee to dig his own heel into the small of Scout's back. He was happy at the surprised, annoyed little noise that escaped the runner, and kept his amused grin to himself when he was roughly shoved away with a grumbled string of expletives.

Scout managed, with a huge amount of focus, to keep from squirming for a few minutes after that. Just long enough that he was sure Sniper had drifted back off to sleep again, before he settled back into comfortable constant motion. And when it became too tedious to wrap himself into crazy positions to keep from jostling Sniper's legs, he hoisted himself up to return to sleeping facing the proper direction.

The runner had gotten half way before he was aware of the nasty sounding sigh that was escaping his companion. He paid it little attention; let Sniper have his stupid little passive aggressive tantrum, it was his fault it was so stuffy and awful anyway. He let slip a slightly embarrassing yelp when the man's arms were suddenly wrapped tightly around his waist and dragging him face first, down in to the pillows.

"Shit! Lemme' go, y'asshat!" Scout growled, struggling against the arms that held him in place, "Its too fuckin' hot for this shit!" He shivered at the voice that whispered huskily in his ear,

"Yeh' gonna sit still, mongrel?"

"Not makin' any promises for you or your stuffy-ass van," Scout grumbled, trying very hard to pry his captor's hands off of him. Though it became clear quite quickly which one of the two was stronger. He huffed instead and folded his arms, trying not to enjoy the chills that skittered down his spine when Sniper exhaled on the back of his neck.

"S'the last chance yer' gettin'..." the man murmured before sinking heavily into the mattress and sighing all the tension out of himself. Scout just frowned, and glared at the wall of the camper as if he might be able to guilt it into opening its windows of its own accord. Naturally he had no such luck.

He lay quietly for a moment, trying to remember the tricks his mother had used to get him to sleep when he'd been a child. Count backwards: boring. Think of someplace calming: ain't no place calm in the middle of a war. Take deep breaths: that had never fucking worked. Fidget? Yea that sounded about right...

Scout hadn't even realized he'd begun his comfortable wiggling again until Sniper's arms were tight around him and he gasped. He strained against the man's grip, tensing up when the voice in his ear carried with it a rather unsettling devious note,

"Ah warned yeh', didn't I?" he growled, and his fingers drummed idly against the soft part of Scout's side, beneath his ribcage, eliciting an involuntary shiver from the runner, "Yeh' wanna squirm all over mah' bed? S'gonna' be on _my_ terms,"

And that was all he said before digging his hands shallowly into his companion's sides and wiggling his fingers into every place that he knew was ticklish and that he knew would produce a reaction. And produce reactions it did. He'd hardly done anything before Scout was kicking and thrashing in his arms, biting his lip in a frantic attempt to keep his laughing bottled up. Ultimately it was futile, though; his thin frame was already shaking from repressing it and Sniper knew all he had to do to push the runner over the edge was apply the lightest of touches to that one particular spot beneath the young man's navel...

If it hadn't been for the hunters arms holding him securely in place, Scout would have hit the ceiling. He struggled as hard as he could, kicking everything in his reach and trying (read, failing) to coordinate his hands enough so that he might be able to pry Sniper's from his person. The whole while he did this, his laughter was bubbling up in gasps and hiccups, as loud and unabashed as he could (it was a defensive tactic left over from similar squabbles with his brothers; often if he were loud enough they would back down so as not to make a spectacle), but despite that he still managed to fling a colorful array of shouted cusses at his captor.

He was unamused to hear the man chuckling behind him.

Scout wrenched himself from the hunter's arms when his grip slackened and scrambled back to the safety of the opposite end of the bed, curling up protectively and glaring daggers at the man. Sniper remained lounged where he was, grinning dangerously. Scout looked livid.

"Wot, yeh've got somethin' t'say?" the hunter jeered, prodding the young man with his foot and was not terribly bothered when it was smacked away,

"Jus' that you're a _fuckin cheater_," Scout snapped, rubbing the residual tingling from his ribs. And it was true. He could think of at least five different occasions off the top of his head that he'd said the very same thing to his companion. For different reasons of course. And a lot of good that seemed to do him; the man certainly had a fondness for sneak attacks... He came out of his musings to notice Sniper chuckling at him,

"Yeh' gonna sit still now, mongrel?" he crooned, patting the space on the bed beside him. Scout eyed it warily, not letting up on the glare (even if it was becoming forced and making his brow ache).

"M'not making _any_ promises to your lousy ass." he mumbled, remaining rooted to the spot, "I was just about to get comfy and you gotta go an' ruin the whole thing. You fuckin' _suck_." So speaking, the young man aimed a sharp kick at his companion's stomach, delighting in the hollow _oof!_ it produced. It hadn't been a kick meant to hurt, or anything of the sort, just one to prove a point.

He was about to forget completely what point that was.

Sniper moved faster than Scout had previously thought the man was capable, and in the span of a split second, the young man had been dragged across the bed by his one ankle and stuffed under a pillow. Sufficiently distracted by these new developments, the runner failed to notice until it was too late that his companion had tucked his trapped foot beneath his arm.

"_Shit!_" was all he could get out before Sniper had gone and drawn the calloused tips of his fingers across the arch of Scout's foot. The noise that escaped the young man first could not have been described as anything other than a shriek, before it dissolved into raucous, wild laughing. If the hunter had made him squirm before, what he was causing now was nothing short of insane and panicked and desperate. And though it may have been all of those things, the exertion of trying so hard to escape quickly turned the young man's limbs into jelly, and his willpower into dust. It didn't take long before he could do little else besides squirm pathetically and stifle his giggling into the mattress.

Sniper relented before long and stood with a smirk, leaving his companion to flop down in the middle of the bed and catch his breath. He hadn't moved an inch by the time the hunter returned with a glass of water, and only barely heaved himself up enough to drink it. Once he had, and once his breathing was approaching normal again, Sniper took the glass and placed it on the adjacent table before sitting back down beside the young man and wrapping an arm around him, guiding him down into the pillows again.

"So, yeh' gonna keep wrigglin' around, mongrel?" he murmured with a grin, noting how Scout had nestled himself into the crook of his arm,

"No," the reply was soft and whimpery a little feeble sounding, though the hunter was spared from feeling badly about it when a tiny smile and a pair of tired, lidded eyes were directed up at him, "That was fuckin' _cruel_, man,"

"Well if yeh' hadn't gone and kicked me, ah wouldn't've had to go and ruin you. I was _plannin_' to stop, but yeh' forced mah' hand." he spoke this with a grin that tugged back enough to reveal his sharp canine teeth, though it softened almost immediately and the hunter drew the sheets back up around the two of them. He shifted just enough to press a soft kiss on the young man's temple before settling himself in.

Scout had gone ahead of him into comfortable sleep by then, and in lieu of this Sniper couldn't help a small smile of his own. That had worked out better than he had expected it to. Of course once his companion awoke in the morning he'd probably be getting an earful about it...if he was that lucky. And as the hunter knew very well, payback tended to be a nasty bitch. But right then he cared very little; just as long as he could finally sleep.


End file.
